


For The Sinner

by Theboys



Series: Dear God, It's Me, Dean [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Sam, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Play, Bottom Dean, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Dean, Possessive Sam Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Rimming, Sex Toys, Top Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 20:40:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4363463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theboys/pseuds/Theboys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s got one playing card left, only he’s not sure it’ll work. Knows it would work on him, if the situation were reversed and Sammy was near to dying in a room that was poisoned with his scent.<br/>Wherein Dean is a ruthless bastard, and is forced to deal with the aftermath of his decisions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For The Sinner

Dean’s located somewhere between beatitude and torment, entire being craving Sam’s touch, goddamn, at this point, just Sam’s presence will do.

He can smell Sammy, and it’s the worst thing to be so close to something but to be disallowed to do anything about it. Sam smells like distress and affliction, covered in hunger. Dean’s disconcerted.

Sam **wants.**

Sam wants something, and he’s willfully denying himself of it.

Removing himself from Dean’s view, leaving Dean on this scratchy motel bed to leak himself out on his bedcovers and lose his mental faculties.

Dean’s head lolls to the side and he reaches out for the first time to see the plastic bag Sammy’s inelegantly dropped on the nightstand. He has about point five seconds of shame as he picks up the thick dido, and the inflatable knot that’s attached. Pumps the knot a little just to watch it swell.

Whimpers at the afterimage.

Dean doesn’t protract the moment. Doesn’t need anymore stretching. He’s never done anything like this before, always fucked tiny little Beta and ‘Mega girls who couldn’t figure why his scent was just a little off.

Dean brings trembling legs to rest against his shoulders, and his fingers are shaking as he reaches blindly to find his entrance. He shoves himself forward an inch or two, and it’s such a relief, such a long-awaited abatement to finally sink down on something that he lets out a gasping sob in appeasement.

Head jerks to the left when he hears the conspicuous sound of a growl emanating from behind the bathroom door.

Dean’s pumping unwaveringly now, thrusts too erratic to do much good, and it’s around this time that he conceives that he’s babbling, and tears are steadily streaming down his face. He’s only managed to hit his prostate twice in the past five minutes, and he’s producing so much slick his thighs are sticking to his sheets.

“Sammy. Sam. Sam, please come out.” He’s keening, voice barely above a breath but he knows Sam can hear him, just the same. Sam’s scent is mutating now. Smells like fear and anguish, smells like terror for Dean (because of him?)

Dean’s struggling to sit up a little, hopes that’ll give him a better angle--and that’s it, he stabs his prostate with such finality that his hands slip away from his surrogate Alpha and his dick pulses in weak jerks as he comes, untouched.

Dean feels like this might be more substandard than not coming at all.

“Sammy, please. M’hurting so much, Sam.” Dean hears the door knob squeak, can tell Sam’s squeezing it powerfully with one big hand.

Dean’s got one playing card left, only he’s not sure it’ll work. Knows it would work on him, if the situation were reversed and Sammy was near to dying in a room that was poisoned with his scent.

“Sam. Sam, if you don’t come out, m’gonna die here. An’ you know it too, gonna fuckin die, cause I can’t take care of myself--”

Sam’s scent is so much more unadulterated when it’s right in front of Dean, wafting over him and surrounding his senses.

Dean doesn’t even stop to consider that he’s baring his neck, only arches his naked body up and finally presses it to Sam’s chest. Dean can feel the muscles there jerking, withholding a response to Dean’s proximity.

Dean’s ass is still clenching rhythmically around the dildo, desperate to keep anything he can locked up in there. Dean lifts a leg to wrap around Sammy’s waist, tugging his body closer still. Dean can hear Sam’s snarls, they’re ripping out his chest like aliens, sees Sam’s vicious battle with self-restraint.

“Dean.” he provides, voice raw.

“Dean you don’t know what the fuck you’re asking for. You can’t ask me shit like that while you’re lying on the bed looking like sin.”

Sam balances himself on one hand, cups Dean’s cheek with his exposed palm, the most gentle, purposeful touch Dean’s had in a long time.

“Ah, Dean.” He says sadly, voice tattered. “You won’t love me, after this. You won’t ever forgive yourself.”

Dean’s sure Brain Blast over there is making tons of relevant analogies about the moment, perhaps directing Dean to take a look at the bar graph over to his left, but Dean doesn’t know what condemnation means, when want is the prevailing emotion in this instant.

Dean reaches out uncertain hands, presses wild fingertips against Sam’s erection, which Dean takes full notice of, for the first time.

Sammy _has_ gotten bigger.

Dean knows, biologically, that Alpha’s dicks are bigger. That’s how they’re wired. Omegas tend to need to be satisfied on a consistent basis, and a four incher just isn’t gonna cut it.

And for one crystal clear, lucid second, Sam’s hips buck down--rather than away, and Dean can hold that fucking baseball bat in his hand. Struggles to close his fingertips around it. Mewls in anticipation of Sammy splitting him open with the monster.

“Gonna let me--” Dean pauses because Sammy’s licking the outer shell of his ear now, teasing him with little nips, migrating around his neck, where Dean most wants him to be.

“Gonna let me hang off your knot all day? Please, Sam, please, wanna fuckin’ dangle off it, you’re gonna  forget what the fuck I look like cause you’re too busy lookin at my ass all day--” Dean feels Sam’s incisors elongate and slice at his neck, can feel the warm drop of blood begin its glide down the skin.

Sam’s up like a bullet then, one big paw clenching Dean’s wrists together so tightly they start to chafe.

“M’not fucking you, Dean,” he says savagely, and Dean’s astounded to understand that he’s crying.

Sammy’s made him cry.

Sam’s face looks gaunt and his eyes are black all around, could barely remember what color they used to be, they’re so dead now.

“You’re still getting fucked, Dean. I just know I was stupid to think you could get through this alone.”

Dean registers that Sam sounds a little like he’s lost his soul and he’s floundering his way back to humanity. Hand white and trembling minutely. He presses Dean’s body to the bed with one hand, Alpha strength rendering any resistance Dean could put up useless.

Curves his hand around the slick instrument in Dean’s hole, pulls it back a fraction and presses it home in one punch.

Dean feels his body jerk upwards in an involuntarily spasm, hands searching for Sam and his nails digging into his brother’s forearms. He hears Sam’s shuddered intake of breath.

Sam continues thrusting animalistically, hair caught in his incisors, shoving Dean so far up the bed that his head clips the headboard with every push.

“Swallowing it Dean. Your ass just won’t let it go--” Sam pauses and Dean can hear the wet squelch of his own slick easing the way for the toy. “Fucking hungry,” Sam whispers, then, angling his face down to look closer,his tongue flicks out, tasting the place where Dean’s rim is clutching at the dildo that Sam’s attempting to murder him with.

Dean’s coming, then, again, and Sam’s jaw is slack as he pumps up the knot and shoves it into Dean entirely, a wickedly vicious thing, no mercy at all.

Sam’s hand grasps Dean’s twitching cock, slow drag easing Dean down from the last of his orgasm. Mutters praise into Dean’s hair, then, lips brushing against his forehead.

“So pretty, Dean. Did that so well for me, baby.”

Dean’s out of it, doesn’t fully comprehend what Sammy’s going on about, or why he’s saying it at all. Just knows that his wolf is trying to curl around his Alpha, and he feels tightly knotted, the only thing he’s still pleading, is for Sammy to claim him.

Turn his neck purple and black with his mark, tear anyone to shreds who looks in his direction.

So Dean turns onto his side, snuggles against Sam, who has finally dropped down next to Dean, rather than hovering above him. Presses his falsely knotted ass as far as he can into Sam’s crotch, mind begging him to believe the knotting was authentic.

Dean purrs (spares a moment to wonder why he’s a damned animal, now) contentedly when Sam’s hand tentatively wraps around his middle, then more forcefully, as he jerks Dean’s entire body flush against his. Dean’s dick gives a quick jerk when it registers how naked and covered in cum he is, when Sam’s fully clothed behind him.

Dean pushes his ass back a second time, rolling it in a small circle and moaning when the knot drags painfully against that abused center of nerves. Sam’s fingers tighten painfully on his hips, and Dean’s neck heedlessly obeys the unspoken command. Opening up for Sam.

Sam scents at Dean, the only sound in the room his growls and snarls.

Guttural, “mine” exits Sammy’s lungs, all Alpha dominating his voice, and Dean can feel the slick beginning to collect around the base of the dildo.

Sam’s dislodging himself from Dean’s back then, landing on his feet like a cat, pulling his body towards the bathroom door.

“Just let me--Dean, I’ll--be right back.”

Sam’s too big to be that silent when he disappears, Dean thinks in some disquiet.

His heat is nearing the surface of his skin, and he tries his best to not pick at it. Let’s himsef indulge in one, long, languid stretch and that’s it, he’s whining again .

Devil’s back to tempt him into sin.

Dean rolls over on all fours, pushes his ass directly up and humps at the air, little mewls working their way up his throat.

Dean’s still cognizant enough to glance over at Sammy, wickedly, when he exits the bathroom, looking down at his waist as he adjusts his belt.

Dean’s heat-bred again when Sammy finally glances in his direction, and Sam has approximately two seconds to say, “shit,” as he opens his mouth wide to give his incisors room to grow.

Dean can’t hear Sammy cause he’s too busy wiggling his ass in a frenzied effort to move the knot in his hole, but it sounds a lot like his brother is praying, weakly.   



End file.
